RWBY: An Inverted Take
by thenextgamer
Summary: A speed semblance? No, you seem to be mistaking my semblance for something else. My power makes time move only when I move. Inverted Semblance, Personality, and Gender.
1. Stand Up

I never really considered myself as someone who was fast.

I never really thought of myself as someone who was a quick thinker.

I felt I was more absent-minded than most people seemed to consider.

And yet… time had always felt so slow to me.

Time.

The concept of time has always been interesting to me. What was time? Was it a straight line filled with a series of fated events, or was it a diverging tree-branch that lead to all possibilities? Was it another way to measure, or was it a philosophical idea? Was it infinite, or was it doomed to die like the rest of us?

Could you control time?

Or does it control you?

Did I just spend an hour having a philosophical monologue in my head, or was it in actuality, literally five seconds?

I turned my head to look at the clock.

The clock's needle ticked one second.

10:05 PM.

I continued to stare at the clock for ten minutes straight.

But the clock's needle never tocked while under my gaze.

10:05 PM.

…

I decided to walk down the street.

Time flowed normally for me once again.

* * *

They say that during a certain age, a child will discover their semblance: a power or ability that is unique to the child and to the child only.

When I was a kid, I couldn't wait for when I would discover my semblance. I was so impatient back then. I just wanted to rush through my youth so that I could finally get my "super-hero powers," as I would have called it.

Time moved too slow, I once said.

Heh. Such irony.

I don't know when or how it manifested, but I remembered the day I discovered what it was.

A child, not even a month older than seven, impatiently sat in the hallway of a hospital, too young to understand why he was even there in the first place.

Mom's gonna be home soon, I thought. She's going to wonder where we are, I thought. She's gonna read me a bedtime story tonight, I thought.

This place was so boring. Nothing exciting was happening. But I sat there patiently, like a good boy was supposed to.

I asked my dad, "When are we gonna go home?"

"In a few hours son… just wait for a few more hours." He told me.

I never picked up the depressed tone in his words.

So I waited. I sat still and waited for hours… and hours, and hours, and hours, and hours. I hated waiting. I wished I had something to do to pass the time. I wished my big sister wasn't busy with Uncle Qrow, so we could play together.

I knew for a fact that I sat there for hours now. So I asked Dad again, "Daddy, do we get to go home yet?"

"Ross, it hasn't even been five minutes yet." He chastised me.

That was my first hint that something wasn't right.

"I know you're impatient son, but please… Please wait here for just a few hours. Please." He begged.

He sounded so broken. But I don't think I ever noticed back then.

Rather confusedly, I looked up at the clock. The needle ticked on as normal.

But then it stopped.

Curious, I sat up straight to examine the clock in more detail. The needle ticked on as normal.

But then it stopped again.

I began to notice a pattern.

I kicked my legs, the needle moved.

I stopped. It stopped. Repeat.

I began experimenting at that point. I kicked my legs until a nurse came down the hallway, and then I would stop.

The results were what I predicted.

At some point, my legs had gotten tired, so I resorted to continuously tap my chest with my finger in order to literally pass the time.

I don't know how long I amused myself with this weird power of mine. I must have been doing it for a whole day in my perspective, but in reality, it was only three hours.

Eventually, the door next to us opened up, and out came a doctor with a face full of regret.

Then I found out why I had to be there in the first place.

 _Mom's gonna be home soon,_ I thought _._

She wasn't.

 _She's going to wonder where we are,_ I thought _._

She couldn't.

 _She's gonna read me a bedtime story tonight,_ I thought.

She never would, ever again.

* * *

I shook my head from the memory, trying to forget about that day. I was disappointed that I had gotten absent-minded again, more so now since I was thinking about something that I should have moved on from a long time ago.

No, I _did_ move on. I _have_ moved on.

Distracted momentarily, I almost didn't notice that I had already arrived at the front door of the 'From Dust Till Dawn' shop.

I was half an hour past closing time.

You'd think, since I literally had all the time in the world, it'd be impossible for me to be late for anything. Guess there are no exceptions for sloppy time management.

Conveniently enough, the shopkeeper hadn't closed up yet. I must have been lucky tonight.

I opened the door and stepped inside, the visitor bell dinging which alerted the old shopkeeper. "Good evening, Ross." He greeted me warmly.

I tapped my chest in a steady rhythm as I talked. "You know that it's past closing time already, right?" I asked.

"I know it is. Business has been slow lately though. I thought if I kept myself open, some late-night stragglers might come by. Like you." He smiled.

I gave a chuckle, "Although that might seem like a good idea, that kind of thinking is just begging for robbers to show up."

"Bah, I'll be fine!" He waved off my warning, "It's a time of peace, I doubt anyone will try to rob me tonight."

"Alright, if you say so." I shrugged. Then I remembered why I came here. "By the way, did the new issue of Weapons Magazine arrive today?"

He nodded and pointed to the back of the store. "Just this morning."

"Thanks." I pulled out some lien for the old man as a tip, and walked to the back of the store. There, I searched out what I was looking for from the organized selection of books and magazines.

 _Let's see… Fashion magazines, news magazines, pet magazines, magazines magazines- Ah, here it is._

With my semblance, I could have easily read the entire magazine in a span of seconds... But I wasn't exactly in a rush to go anywhere tonight. I actually needed to pass the time, and books were invented as a way to gain knowledge and to pass time.

Besides, I could never read anything without some good music.

And I can't listen to good music without moving to the rhythm.

...

Well- it's mostly because if I didn't move at all, my MP3 player would just freeze in time like everything else in the world, but even still, I couldn't help but headbob to good music.

I wore my headphones, put my music player on shuffle, and opened to the first page.

The smooth electric guitar played the first notes of "Red Like Roses Pt. 2" and I immersed myself in another reality...

* * *

 _ **Moments later...**_

The shopkeeper turned around as the visitor bell dinged the second time that night.

Just as he was about to greet whoever it was, he was surprised when he saw not one customer, but a suspicious group of men in black suits and red glasses.

One of the men stood out from the others. A man wearing a white jacket and bowler hat, smoking a cigar.

They all glanced around the place, eyeing the dust chutes and the crystals on display. After a few seconds, the bowler hat man walked up to the counter, rudely dropping some cigar ashes on the floor.

Before the shopkeeper could say a word however, he was suddenly staring at the end of a gun.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a dust shop this late?" Bowler-hat complained.

It was then the shopkeeper realized how bad of a situation he was in.

 _Sigh... I should've retired._

* * *

I always had a fascination with weapons. Especially unique, custom-made ones. There was something about them... How their creators slaved away days and months of their lives to create a weapon that would fit just for them. There was just something... alive about them. Like the creators had somehow crafted souls for the weapons themselves.

Yang called me crazy when I first explained this to her.

Maybe I am...

I found my gaze lingering over a familiar picture featured in the magazine.

It was a scythe. Not just any scythe though, it was Uncle Qrow's scythe. Looked like the publishers finally took notice and decided to feature his weapon on this month's edition. I wonder how he would feel about this when he found out?

Hm... I always wanted to create my own custom-made weapon. Back at Signal, they had these workshops for the students to use, gun parts and weapon assembly kits free of charge.

There wasn't really anything to stop me from making my own weapon, per se. It was just... I couldn't decide on what I wanted. I never felt comfortable with any specific type of weapon. Anything I held in my hands just felt too... easy to use.

I blamed my semblance. The problem with being able to pause or slow time whenever you want is that it screws up your way of fighting.

Or 'improves it,' depending on your perspective.

No matter what kind of weapon I had, or who I was up against, I would win. How could I not, with my semblance? Every test I ever took, every fight I'd ever been in, it would be done in the shortest amount of time possible. No matter how long it actually took for me.

They called me a prodigy. A master of all weapons. A legendary child who would win every duel, no matter who I was up against.

I'd scoff. Of course they would say stupid things like that. Anyone with this power could do the same things I did.

My semblance made things too easy for me. I never actually mastered any weapons. I never had proper training for _any_ weapons. They all thought I was too good for training. They all thought I was too perfect.

But the truth was that I wasn't. Without my semblance, I would fumble with any sword. Without my semblance, I would miss every shot fired from a gun. Without my semblance, a kid who actually trained, who actually poured sweat, tears, and blood to improve himself each day, he would have _earned_ the praise and attention that I had. Praise and attention that I didn't deserve.

This semblance made me special.

But I'm not special.

Without my semblance, I would be just another kid in the world, growing up with hopes and dreams like any other.

I wouldn't be special.

I'm not special.

...

Huh. Looks like I zoned out in another absent-minded train of thought. I really needed to focus more. But I guess it wasn't like it would be necessary, though. I couldn't waste time unless I intentionally wanted to.

What was I thinking about again?

Oh right, Uncle Qrow had his weapon featured in the new edition of Weapons Magazine.

I paused that thought for a moment when I heard a familiar guitar riff...

Aw man, I loved this song! 'This Will Be The Day' is a true masterpiece.

 _"They see you as small and helpless. They see you as just a child. Surprised when they find out a warrior will soon run wi-"_

Suddenly, I was interrupted when I felt my shoulder being tugged from behind. Turning around, I saw a man in a black suit holding a sword.

I instantly froze.

Thus time froze as well.

I assessed the situation at hand.

A clearly aggravated man had his weapon out in a public area.

Behind him were other men who seemed to have a similar taste in fashion. They were in the process of filling up dust tubes from the chutes.

The shopkeeper was putting his dust crystals in a suitcase, with one of the suited men pointing a gun at his head.

This was a robbery. The shopkeeper was being robbed.

 _This should be fun._

The teachers in Signal would comment about how unnaturally calm I was when facing stressful situations.

What was the point in panicking when you had all the time in the world to react?

I tried to think up of different ways to subdue the guy in front of me first. He was opening his mouth, meaning he was currently speaking to me, probably issuing a command for me to put my hands up or something.

I shouldn't get near him when he still had his sword and his attention concentrated on me, though.

Luckily for me, I had a magazine in my hand, and his face was wide open for distractions.

I moved to throw the magazine at him, and time flowed freely again.

"-eathwish or somethi- Agh! What the fu-" The magazine had hit him square in the face.

Time paused once more.

His head was tilted back and his free hand was reaching up to get the magazine off of his face. His sword hand would be loose now.

Time unpaused as I ran forward and grabbed his sword by the blunt edge of the blade, before violently shoving the hilt into his abdomen.

His head lurched forward, his arms covering his stomach because of the pain. Time stopped.

A wide opening.

I whacked him on the side of the head with the sword hilt, and he was instantly out like a light.

No challenge whatsoever.

Looking up, I saw one of his friends dropping his dust tube and was just about to pull out a gun from his coat before time stopped again.

I took my time to glance around the shop and find anything useful. On my right, I saw a bag of aged red fire dust, then a funny little idea popped up in my head.

I hastily grabbed the bag of dust and threw it at the gunman, just as he aimed his gun at me.

His reflexes reacted too quickly, he couldn't stop himself from pulling the trigger before it was already too late. When the bullet made contact with the bag...

Boom.

Out the window he goes.

...

I just realized that I'd probably have to pay for that. Oh well, bridges and gaps.

I noticed that the robber had dropped his gun when he went soaring out the window from the mini-explosion. Amazingly enough, it doesn't seem to have sustained any damage.

How convenient.

I calmly walked over to grab the gun, giving a few casual spins with my new sword as I went. Kicking the gun up, it flipped to the air in slow motion, before I grabbed it in my free hand. Examining the gun more closely, I noticed it seemed unfamiliar... It didn't look like any standard pistol I'd been taught about. New brand, maybe?

Hm... A sword in one hand, and a gun in the other? I could make do with this.

I turned my head right, and saw all the other robbers cautiously staring at me. The shopkeeper took advantage at how they were all focusing on me, and crouched to hide behind the counter.

Let's see, five guys. Four men in black, one man in white and a bowler hat. Three out of the four men in black carried swords, while one held an SMG. Bowler-hat had to be the ringleader of the group. He carried no distinctive or noticeable weapons, although I was a bit wary about that cane of his. Logical assumption would be that the cane was also part gun. Better watch out for that.

You know, maybe I just did it for laughs, but when I looked at their nervous faces, I couldn't help but give a smug smile and say, "Hello there. You done fucked with the wrong shop." I made a loud guncock to add in extra bits of intimidation.

Seemed like it worked, most of the robbers in black suits took a few step backs. Bowler-hat didn't seem the least bit fazed, however.

Despite him, I was feeling confident. Then again, I always felt confident about my chances with anything. Probably to the point in arrogance. Was I getting arrogant lately? I hoped not. I better keep watch of that before I did something I might regret.

Wait, I was losing focus again. Reassess the new situation at hand, Ross.

I didn't see any openings for an attack yet. If I charged at them now, they'd be expecting it and would react appropriately, overpowering me. I couldn't just shoot them, I just wanted to knock them out, not have them killed. I was going to have to wait for a better opportunity, most likely wait until I could perform a counter-attack.

So, I'd just let them make the first move.

Time moved forward as I started tapping the tip of my gun to the side.

Bowler-hat held his cigar away as he sighed, releasing a puff of smoke into the air. Dropping some cigar ashes, he looked at me inquisitively, before casually remarking, "What an annoying inconvenience."

"Hey kettle, the pot called. He says you're black."

"Funny." He snarked. He paused for a moment, as if expecting something to happen. When nothing did, he groaned before turning his head back and frustratedly shouting, "What, am I paying you monkeys to just stand there and gawk?! GET HIM!"

At his urgency, the robbers snapped out of their daze. With a sudden burst of courage, they charged at me.

I stopped tapping my gun.

The robber in front of me froze in place just as he was about to slice me diagonally with his sword.

Easy enough to counter.

I deflected his attack and slammed my hilt against his jaw. As time paused again, I was deciding what to do next as I studied the robber holding his jaw while mid-scream, before opting to just trip him.

As he fell, I observed the next guy who was just inches away from pummeling my face with his fist. I tilted my head a bit to the left, letting the punch fly past me. Deciding to teach him a lesson about why it was a bad idea to bring a fist to a sword fight, I levelled my gun up to his shoulder and fired a round.

"Augh! Motherfu-" Time paused again.

I hit his gut with the butt of my gun, knocking wind out of him, and pushed him to the floor.

The wound wasn't that serious. As long as he kept applying pressure to it like he was doing now, he'd live long enough for the paramedics to take care of him.

For the next guy, I didn't even have to try. He had such a sloppy and predictable attack, charging at me while holding his sword like a spear.

All I did was step to the side, and he couldn't even stop himself from face-planting straight into the wall behind me.

I heard a thud, a groan, and then another thud.

I sighed. This was starting to get boring again.

"Say good night you bast-" Once again, time froze.

The last robber had his SMG pointed at me.

I smirked, unintentionally moving time forward for a bit before it stopped again.

Now we're talking.

This was one of my favorite things to do when fighting against someone with a full-auto gun. Bullet dodging.

It took me a while to master it, but the key trick to slowing down time without stopping it entirely, is to move like you were in slow motion yourself. I had to be careful not to move too quickly, or else I would have no reaction time left to dodge the next oncoming bullets.

I slowly stepped forward. The robber held down the trigger to his gun, slowly spraying bullets at me.

To the world, I must have been a blur, dodging every single bullet effortlessly.

Tilt head to the right, slowly spin sideways here, deflect bullet with a sword there, dodge last bullet by overdramatically tilting head back. Just like every action movie I've ever seen.

The gun eventually stop spewing bullets and started clicking on an empty barrel. The robber grew scared as he realized that he had just unleashed an entire mag on me at close range and not even a single bullet had landed a hit.

"What the hell?!" He whimpered.

Welp, that was fun while it lasted. Time to get serious though.

I closed one eye and steadily aimed my gun-sights at him.

He hastily moved to reload his gun.

I calmly took my time to aim exactly where I wanted to shoot.

I pulled the trigger. The bullet flew straight into his foot.

He yelped, fumbling and dropping both the gun and magazine as he crouched down to tend to his wounded foot, before time paused again.

He was just in the right position. Lets see if I could do this without screwing up…

I took a few steps back, concentrated… and then I ran forward, jumped, and drop-kicked his face.

He flew back from the impact, but he was already knocked out before his head even landed.

I always wanted to do that. Man I wished someone recorded this moment. Yang would never believe this otherwise.

…

I cautiously scanned the area to see if there were any more bad guys left. It looked like I got all of them though. Three criminals left unconscious, one exploded out the window, two of them were wounded by gunshots, though none of the shots were fatal. I should probably get the shopkeeper to call them an ambulance anyway.

Oh right, the shopkeeper!

"Hey old man! Are you still breathing?" I called out worriedly, instinctively tapping myself.

"Just fine!" He stuck his head above the counter, checking if the coast was clear. When he saw all of the robbers subdued, he pulled himself up and sighed in relief. "Probably going to need to fill out paperwork for my insurance though. Heheheh." He chuckled.

Phew, he wasn't hurt at all. Thank God.

"I'd thought you were a goner when I heard the guns firing! Glad to know you're still with us though." He wiped his wet brow from all the nervous sweat. He took a second look at the mess, before asking incredulously "Ross, did you just single handedly beat down four armed men in less than a few minutes?!"

"It- it's really not that impressive." I nervously shrugged, "I know tons of people who could have done that faster."

"Ohoh, I find that hard to believe! I've met plenty of hunters in my time, but I've never met _anyone_ who was as fast as you, Ross! You must be very special if you could-"

"Hey, not to rush you or anything," I interrupted, "but could you call the police department and tell them what happened? Like, right now? Some of these guys are bleeding here."

As if on point, the robber who was shot in the shoulder started to cry.

"Oh right, sorry." The old shopkeeper nodded, before going off to find a phone.

I sighed as I stood there by my lonesome. I didn't know how long this whole event took in real time. Probably less than a few minutes, like the old man said. Didn't even break a sweat. I was honestly hoping for a better challenge, but I guess I shouldn't have expected anything more. Not with my semblance, anyway.

"Looks like I won't need these anymore." I unceremoniously dropped my sword, then began to dismantle the gun of its barrel and magazine, before dropping them as well.

I looked around and saw all the damage that I had done. The broken window, the charred remains from the mini-dust-explosion, the damaged dust chutes, bullet casings all over the floor, the blood from the robbers that I shot… God, I felt bad for the shopkeeper. How was he gonna pay for all this? I was going to need to come back later and leave him a big fat tip.

While I continued to look at the damage, I had noticed something peculiar on the floor. A weird brownish thing. I stepped closer to examine it in detail.

It was a single, smashed cigar.

I immediately stopped tapping, my eyes widening as I realized...

I had forgotten about the man in the bowler hat.

"Damn it!" I muttered. I checked around to see if there were any weapons I could use, before seeing the SMG and magazine one of the robbers had dropped early in the fight. I scooped both of them up and ran out of the shop.

He couldn't have gotten far, could he? How did I not notice him leaving earlier? When did he leave during the fight?

These questions ran through my head as I got angry at myself for not paying attention earlier. Because of me, that bastard probably got away scot-free! Then he'd probably come back to try to rob another dust shop again, and I wouldn't be around to do anything about it until it was too late!

I reloaded the SMG, and slowly observed the area to find Bowler-hat.

But he was nowhere in sight. I had lost him.

"God damn it!" I shouted, frustratingly stomping my foot on the ground.

Just then, I saw a Bullhead aircraft fly overhead. As time paused, I took a good long look on the inside of the VTOL vehicle. To my chagrin, there he was, mockingly waving at me with that smug grin of his.

I tried to level my gun sights on him, but the Bullhead had moved too quickly. Every single move I made, it would get yards further away from me.

I fired short-bursts at the Bullhead, hoping that at least one of my shots got lucky. Of course, none of them did. I didn't know what I was expecting to happen, but it didn't work, as all my bullets just bounced harmlessly off the metal body.

Just like that, they were already gone.

I lost him. He got away.

And it was because I didn't pay enough attention to prevent this from happening in the first place.

This was my fault.

"Such a worthless idiot…" I sighed depressingly, knowing that I couldn't do anything more except wait for the police to show up.

After dismantling the SMG, I resumed my tapping in a steady rhythm and went back inside to help the shopkeeper clean up.

* * *

Above the rooftops, two shadowy figures stood as they re-watched the recording of the entire scene on their scroll-pad.

"Amazing. Simply remarkable!"

"'Remarkable,' sir? You don't mean _him_?"

"Did you not see him fight? The way he moved, the way he dodged those bullets with such inhuman speed!"

"What I _saw_ , sir, was a boy who had nearly endangered his life and the lives of others. If he had hesitated, took one step out of turn, or if his reaction time was even one second too slow, he would've been killed tonight."

"Oh, I highly doubt that his reaction time would ever be too slow for anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Hmhm, I'll explain it to you later, if you don't mind waiting?"

The other speaker gave an annoyed grunt, but raised no voice to argue.

"Thank you. Now, if you could Glynda, have the police get Ross to remain in custody after they finish questioning him. Temporarily, of course. I want to speak with him, personally."

"As you wish, Ozpin."

* * *

 **Ugh, such a lame cliffhanger.**

 **To those who have read my stuff for the first time, welcome. This is an alternate universe spinoff to another story. I will continue to make more RWBY: A(n) *Adjective/noun* Take, because there are not enough Male!Ruby fanfics.**

 **Also, because time manipulation is freaking cool, and in the right hands, a good story concept. Yes, I got the idea from the video game.**

 **To those who have read my other works, fear not. I am not canceling anything, this story is just to help me get past my writer's block. I will concentrate mostly on A Boy's Take when my brain decides not to be a douche.**

 **BRING ON THE HATE REVIEWS!**


	2. Take The First Step

The clock in the room ticked and tocked, the small needle moving clockwise each second, just like every other clock.

I sat there patiently in the interrogation room, staring at the tiny needle of the clock, tapping myself like I usually did to pass the time.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

I stopped.

Unsurprisingly, the small needle stopped as well.

Even when it was frozen, I continued to stare at the clock. I inwardly counted the non-existent seconds that passed by. All the way until I reached ten minutes.

I resumed tapping myself.

The clock in the room ticked and tocked, the small needle moving clockwise each second, just like every other clock.

How many times had I done this already?

I didn't know why I did this, just stopping time and staring at a clock for ten unpassing minutes. I guess it just felt therapeutic, in a sense. I don't think there really is a proper reason, though.

I'd been doing this for so long, it was almost like a bad habit. I wonder how old I would be if I took into consideration the amount of time I spent in Limbo? I must be a lot older than my actual age. Now there was an uncomfortable thought.

Speaking of feeling uncomfortable, why was I still being held here even though I already answered all of their questions?

Was it because I inflicted gunshot wounds on two of the robbers during my fight?

That couldn't be it, it was obvious self-defense.

Was it because I accidentally let their leader escape?

That does seem more likely... I wonder if I'll get charged for that?

Guess I'd find out soon anyway.

...

I stared back at the clock, the tiny needle moving clockwise each second, just like every other clock.

I stopped.

Time stopped.

Even though the clock did not move, I continued to stare at it.

* * *

Flipping through her files one last time, Glynda Goodwitch sauntered up through the door to the interrogation room that held Ross Rose.

There, she saw Ross sitting in his seat on the other side of the table, calmly staring at the clock in the room. Ross had glanced at her for a second before straightening himself and giving his full attention to her.

She mentally noted how Ross was continuously poking himself with his right index finger.

She was not ready to speak with him just yet. Instead, she walked over to pull out her seat from under the table, sat down, and began to silently observe him.

She had expected him to eventually make the first move. Perhaps feeling discomforted by the awkward silence, and then obligated to start the conversation himself, or by becoming annoyed and impatiently demanding her to tell him why he was being held longer than needed.

However he reacted, it would tell Glynda a lot about him and who he was.

Minutes had passed, and to her surprise, Ross had done nothing in response. He sat there, facial expressions giving no hints of any emotions, as he silently observed Glynda back. Other than the continuous poking, and the occasional glance at the clock, he didn't say or do anything.

She had to admit, Ross was more quiet and patient than she had originally thought he would be.

Deciding that she had learnt enough from first impressions, Glynda cleared her throat and switched to her stern persona, starting off, "I hope you've realized how reckless you were tonight."

"Calling me 'reckless' would insinuate that I had acted first without giving much thought about my actions beforehand." He pointed out. "So I think you're using the wrong word."

"You mean to tell me that you _were_ thinking before you acted?" Glynda asked rhetorically, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes." Blunt response. No excuses, no explanations. Just a blunt confirmation to her question.

She huffed, "So during the heat of the moment, you knew exactly what you were doing the entire time?"

"Yes. I had the situation under control."

"Even when their leader escaped at the last moment?"

Although he showed no facial reaction, Glynda noticed for a split second that he paused from tapping his shoulder. Only for a split second though, as he quickly resumed and gave a reply that she had a feeling was practiced.

"The word 'reckless' doesn't apply in this sense." Ross explained, before facing away from her. "The word you actually meant to use was 'careless.' I was careless tonight, and I do realize that. I had been too busy dealing with his associates to notice him leaving the scene, and even when the fight was over, I had still relaxed and let my guard down, because I had forgotten about him. When I finally realized he was missing, it was too late to catch him. So, I am sorry for being careless and letting him get away."

Glynda paused. He didn't answer with any narcissistically mocking undertones. He didn't answer rudely. He didn't answer hesitantly, as if he was uncertain whether or not he should have responded to her question.

He gave responses almost instantaneously, but not in a way that sounded rushed. It almost seemed like they were planned, practiced a million times in his head. Had he been predicting what she would ask or say to him?

His stoic attitude had also been throwing Glynda off. Normally, she was quite accurate when it came to profiling and human psychology. If the files and records of the person with detailed information about their history wasn't enough, speaking with them and observing their behavior usually gave Glynda a good understanding of the person.

Her initial expectation was that he was the passionate, yet rash type of person. Someone that acted out on feeling rather than thinking. Usually tended to defend their actions by claiming that it was the morally correct thing to do. Most people around his age were usually like that, especially recently-graduated students training to become hunters, thinking that they were ready to take on the world despite not being official hunters yet.

His calm and stoic personality debunked her initial expectations though. It was obvious that he wasn't like other kids his age. It also made him hard to read, maybe unpredictable to an extent. Was he calm because he truly had the situation in hand, or was he just quick to work with what he had?

Then there was that weird tapping of his. For the entire confrontation, he had not even stopped poking himself for a moment. It felt eerie to watch. Was it a nervous habit, perhaps? A psychological quirk?

She had to admit, he was a curious enigma. Perhaps that was why Ozpin was so interested in him?

It wouldn't hurt to ask a few questions about himself, she supposed. She had stayed silent for the past few minutes, and even though Ross didn't seem to mind at all, she needed to say _something_ until Ozpin would finally arrive.

Weighing her options, she decided to start off with a topic about him that intrigued her most. "Did you realize that you've been poking yourself the entire time we were speaking?"

"Yes, I am aware of my habit. Why do you ask?" He replied, his deceptively emotionless expression still irking her.

"No particular reason. Would you like to stop doing so?" She wanted to test how psychological this was.

"If it's all the same, I think I'd prefer not to, thanks. I find that it helps my concentration." He answered vaguely.

"It wouldn't kill you to stop for one second though, would it?"

"No, but if I kept doing it, it won't exactly kill you either."

Was that a hint of sarcasm leaking through? He was witty, she'd have to give him that.

Ozpin was going to have a field day with this one.

"Sorry for the long wait! I had forgotten something important back at my office."

Speak of the devil, in walked Professor Ozpin, carrying his coffee-mug and holding some case in his other arm.

Wait, was that a chess case?

"Sir, did you really just fly back to the office at Beacon, then fly all the way back here, just to bring along a chess case?" She asked, not even bothering to sound surprised.

"Of course. I've decided that I should take advantage of the situation while I still can." Ozpin spoke nonchalantly.

Take advantage? Take advantage of what?

Glynda moved to the side of the table as Ozpin stepped forward. "Ross Rose. It's a pleasure to meet you." He greeted.

* * *

"Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon. I'm sort of surprised to see you coming to visit me." Ross greeted back, quirking an eyebrow. He turned to Glynda, "Then that would mean you're Glynda Goodwitch. I was wondering why you looked familiar."

Ozpin glanced at his assistant, noticing the scary glare she was giving aimed right at him.

 _You promised that you'll explain everything._

Ozpin gave a quick and sheepish shrug in response.

 _I know, later. I promised._

Facing back to the young man, Ozpin cleared his throat. "You must be wondering why I'm here." He started, "To answer truthfully, I was the one that had asked the police to have you kept here after questioning. After hearing of the robbery attempt, and seeing how you dealt with it, I was curious and wanted to meet you for myself. I hope this isn't too inconvenient for you?"

"It's alright. I'm not in a rush to be anywhere at the moment." Ross shrugged off.

Before Ozpin could reply to that, however, something had caught his eye.

Setting the case and his mug on the table, he leaned his head near Ross's face, momentarily forgetting about other people's need for personal spaces.

Was it coincidence? It couldn't possibly be…

With obvious discomfort, Ross leaned his head back and widened his eyes in surprise, unintentionally helping Ozpin getting a clearer look.

"You have… silver eyes..." Ozpin muttered, more to himself than to Ross.

The name... The eyes... He had no doubts about it now. This was the same Ross who was _her_ child.

Ozpin inwardly smiled. The fact that he now knew who Ross was made this all the more interesting.

Ross, for his part, seemed to have calmed down after being stared at by Ozpin for a few seconds, and decided to stare back at Ozpin patiently, not giving a hint of any reaction beyond that.

Of course, Ozpin suspected that it only _seemed_ like a few seconds to him. To Ross, however, it must have taken much longer for him to compose himself.

With his curiosity sufficiently sated, Ozpin leaned back and sat up straight in his seat.

"So, what were you so curious about that you would come to see me yourself, professor?" Ross asked plainly.

"Hm. Well, for starters," Ozpin motioned Glynda to come forward.

She nodded, stepping next to Ozpin as she pulled out a scroll tablet that showed a recording of the night's recent events.

"Where did you learn to do this?" He asked, referring to Ross's rather stiff, yet impressive prowess of combat.

The jacket-clad boy silently sat there as he watched the footage of his fight with the criminals at the dust shop. As he did though, Ozpin minded himself to pay close attention to Ross's tapping.

The professor noted how every minute or so, Ross's rhythm of tapping would get off-beat by just a tiny fraction of a second, almost unnoticeable to the naked eye. Ozpin was unsure whether this was a legitimate clue, or it was just him looking too much into things.

"Signal. I'm a student there. That's where I learned my combat technique." He answered after the watching the video thoroughly.

"They must have started teaching more unorthodox methods of combat then. I've never seen this type of pragmatic fighting from any other students in Signal."

If one were to have no knowledge of Ross before witnessing his him in action, he could've easily been mistaken as an amateur. During the fight in the dust shop, his stances were crude and offered no stability or protection. He wielded his sword like a child would wield a stick. He didn't even aim properly when using his gun. He just gave off a complete air of an untrained and inexperienced kid.

Yet despite all of that, he still managed to overpower a whole group of criminals with complete ease.

So, he had to be doing something right, surely?

Or perhaps… he had an advantage over his opponents that was never taken into consideration?

"I've been experimenting and modifying what they taught me. I guess." Ross vaguely replied.

Hm, most curious.

Ozpin silently held out an open hand to Glynda, in which she placed a manila folder. Opening it and laying it down on the table, facing Ross, it showed his school records and photo.

"You're considered to be quite the prodigy in your school. Teachers who've had you in their classes had nothing but praises for your skills. The highest win-loss ratios for duels compared to other students, able to complete hour long tests in a matter of minutes, proficient at wielding almost every single weapon ever handed to you-"

"Those are just over-exaggerations. I'm not that special, so don't take them too seriously." Ross interrupted, subtly showing discomfort at the topic.

Ozpin slightly chuckled at his response, "There's no need to be modest, young man-"

"I'm not. I'm just stating facts. I am not that special." Ross interrupted again, this time returning to his emotionless expressions.

Ozpin frowned at that, taken slightly off guard at the utterly serious tone Ross had. He glanced at his assistant to see if she made anything out of it, but was disappointed to find that she was at a loss as well.

There was an awkward tension in the air for a few moments, before Ozpin proceed to clear his throat and continue the conversation. "Well, whether or not we take into consideration how authentic your school records are, you have to admit that there must be some merit behind them. At least, considering from what we've witnessed so far, during the robbery attempt."

Ross gave no response.

Perhaps it would be wise to change the topic to another. Ozpin cleared his throat again, and pushed on. "Well, I guess I should get to the point of why I'm here."

Ozpin leaned forward, his hands crossed contemplatively under his chin, the light shining from above them reflected off his glasses, effectively hiding his eyes.

"Let me ask you, Ross, after you graduate from Signal, where do you plan on going?" He asked.

Still expressionless, Ross answered, "After I graduate, I plan on applying to Beacon. Study to get the license to become a fully fledge Huntsman, then do my best to protect the world from Grimm."

"I see… That won't happen until the next two years though, am I correct?"

Ross kept silent.

"Beacon is always on the lookout to accept promising young candidates who show enough promise and tenacity to be their students. And I, personally, find you to be one of those promising candidates that our school would gladly accept."

Ross closed his eyes.

"So Ross, what I'm asking is: would you like to join-"

"Absolutely not."

Ozpin leaned back a bit in surprise of such a quick answer. But most of the surprise came from the fact that Ross had actually declined his offer to join Beacon. Of all the responses Ozpin was expecting, that wasn't quite one of them.

"Uh... You don't want to join Beacon?" Ozpin asked in a stupefied manner.

After a few moments, Ross had finally decided to stop his expressionless facade, and gave a frustrated sigh.

"Thank you for the offer, Professor Ozpin, but no. I can't accept your proposal." He stated in a firm tone.

"I… see…" It was not every day someone would just so readily decline his offer to join Beacon, especially when moments before, that someone had just admitted to planning to go to Beacon after graduating school. "May I ask, why so quick to decline?"

"Because I don't deserve this opportunity. I did **nothing** to earn this." For the first time since this whole confrontation started, Ross had finally expressed some emotion. The tired aggravation was obvious in his question. "Why me? Why did you decide to ask me? I'm two years younger than the standard requirement for application. I don't understand what I did to suddenly deserve a spot in Beacon so early."

Ross stood up from his seat and stared Ozpin straight in the eyes. "All I did was stop a robbery while you were nearby. That's it. That's literally it. I didn't do anything else besides beating a few criminals. How is that fair? How is that fair to everyone else who wants to join Beacon? I know at least dozens of kids in my school that have worked so much harder than me just so that they can be in my position right now. They've actually practiced, and trained, and worked themselves to the bone in order to become the Hunters that they've dreamed of being. Why are they not the ones that are the most potential candidates?

"It's just not fair at all! Are you telling me that a sure-fire way to get into Beacon is to just do something impressive while you're just conveniently a few feet away? Is that it?"

"That's not…" Ozpin shook his head, slightly confused. "I don't think I understand why you're so frustrated right now. I'm not offering you a position in Beacon simply because of that. I took notice of your skills and your combat prowess-"

"Trust me, whatever you noticed wasn't any of that." He interrupted again. Sitting back down, he clicked his tongue, sounding a lot more calm, yet scornful. "You probably wouldn't understand anyway. It's not like it's an easy thing to explain to someone. But that's beside the point. The only thing that you need to understand, is that offering me to join Beacon as I am now is both unfair to others, and also a waste of time. Not only would I decline, but whatever 'potential' that you saw within me is nonexistent. My skills have never improved, and have remained stagnant ever since I joined Signal Academy. No matter how much I've practiced or trained, nothing has improved. I've already been given too many rewards and opportunities in my life already, which I've never worked for. I don't need this offer of joining Beacon early adding to the list of things I don't deserve.

"So many people have been considering me to be a prodigy for so long, it's annoyingly stupid. Everyone offering me all these opportunities has ironically given me less opportunities to improve as a hunter. No one bothers to notice that I'm an imperfect being, always seeing me as if I had this unnatural godlike talent that has no need to be improved upon, when really, that's just simply not the case. I just can't stress this enough when I say that I don't deserve any of this. I'm sorry, but I can't accept your offer of joining Beacon. Not as the way I am now."

Ross sighed.

The room was silent.

Ross, allowing his company to swallow in his rejection, started staring at the clock as he resumed tapping his shoulder again.

Glynda was at a loss for words, having just watched Ross's personality do a short one-eighty switch, before becoming all self-effacing. She looked at Ozpin to see if he knew what they should do after a response like that, but only saw Ozpin silently sitting there, looking contemplative about something.

For Ozpin, he was slowly digesting every single word that came out of Ross's mouth. Piece by piece, Ozpin seemed to have gained a general understanding of what was going on. Nodding to himself, he finally broke the silence of the room and started off the next conversation.

"I think I understand, Ross."

"Good." Ross replied back, standing up again. "If that's all, then I guess I'll be heading back home now. It was an honor to meet you, Professor-"

"You feel this way about yourself because of your semblance, aren't you?" Now it was Ozpin who had interrupted Ross mid-sentence.

"My semblance?" Although Ross still had a calm demeanor when Ozpin mentioned his semblance, Ozpin had a feeling that it took Ross off-guard more than he showed.

"Yes." He nodded, "Forgive me if I get this wrong, as I'm simply going on a hunch… but your semblance is the ability to slow down time, is it not?"

* * *

How did he figure it out?

That's not possible… I never told anyone about my semblance. I never even told Yang about it!

If people ever found out how powerful my semblance actually is, I'd never have the same life ever again. Everyone in the world would know about me. I would be on the news for controlling something so stupidly overpowered. People might take advantage of me for their own personal use. I might be kidnapped and be forced to use my semblance for political power. My friends and family could be used as leverage against me. They would be hurt, or worse, and I wouldn't know what to do-

Snap out of it, Ross. It's not the end of the world if just Ozpin knows about your semblance. Just calm down, and ask him to elaborate.

Mentally preparing myself, I resumed tapping my shoulder to restart time again.

"What makes you think that?" I asked, not ready to confirm his suspicion just yet, until I knew what he planned on doing with it.

"I'm very good at making guesses." He answered mysteriously.

Vague bastard.

"Sometimes you can run out of lucky guesses." I retorted.

"Perhaps... How about we make a wager then?"

A wager? What was he planning?

"A wager for what?"

"I propose that we play a game of chess." Ozpin took the chess case from the side and laid it down between us. "Don't worry if you're scared of losing anything valuable. It's not that kind of wager. But the outcome will still be quite a serious change in your life."

"Will it? What am I playing for, exactly?"

"Well, let's say… If I win, you'll have to join Beacon."

How subtle.

"Professor Ozpin, what are you planning? You can't just go around and gamble about something like this!" Miss Goodwitch decided to intervene to berate the headmaster.

Ozpin only smiled back at her, and asked, "Please, have faith Glynda."

"How can I have faith when I have absolutely no idea what you're doing?! What did you mean when you said that Ross's semblance was the ability to control time?! You said that you would explain everything!"

"And I will. You must have patience, though. I know what I'm doing."

Glynda stared back at him, before growing exasperated and leaning against the wall, pinching her eyebrows in annoyance.

"There's still a glaring problem in whatever plan you have in store for me, professor." I noted. "What's to stop me from not participating in this bet?"

"Well… Nothing, really. You could decline my offer again, and just leave right now… However, should you leave, I will try my hardest to find other methods to convince you to join Beacon. Perhaps send _a letter to your family_ with promises of free scholarship? Maybe have representatives come by to _interrupt your lunch hour_ by offering free samples of Beacon's finest cuisine? I'm very determined to have you join us as early as possible."

It sounded like he was trying to bribe me, but the way he said it made me understand what he was actually implying.

If dad or Yang ever found out that the Headmaster of Beacon had personally invited me to join his school, they would go nuts over it. I'd be practically forced to go since they'd want me to. If the kids and teachers over at Signal found out, I'd have more attention focused on me than I felt comfortable with, and that was saying a lot.

Damn. I never expected Ozpin to be such an asshole.

"If that's the case, then what happens if I win, should I decide to play along?"

"I would leave you alone. You wouldn't hear from me again until two years later, when you finally graduate from Signal Academy. You'd be under assessment like any other student, no scholarships, no preparation. You would have the same opportunity as everyone else."

Well, isn't that ironic. I'm basically gambling away my right to say no to joining a school that I plan on going to in the future.

"So… Shall we play a game?" Ozpin asked with a stupid grin.

I sighed, as I had the feeling that I was probably going to have a long night ahead of me.

Welp, at least I could finally use my semblance as a means to be treated fairly, instead of getting ahead in life.

"Since it's pretty much the fate of my entire future on the line, I get to be white." I declared.

"I suppose that's fair."

* * *

I moved my knight piece to trap his rook, hoping that he didn't notice what I was planning.

I looked up to see him scrutinizing the chessboard, before blocking off my bishop to prevent my strategy.

I narrowed my eyes, but didn't falter. I froze time again, and tried to come up with a new strategy.

We were probably somewhere halfway into the game. It looked like a stalemate at the moment. I captured a few of his pieces, he had captured a few of mine. No one was closer to being the victor than the other.

I think I made a mistake from underestimating Ozpin. I can't believe that I thought I was going to have an easy time if I simply used my semblance. Especially in a game where patience is already the virtue.

Ozpin was good. Really good. I really shouldn't have expected less from the Headmaster of the most prestigious hunting academy in the kingdom.

I resumed time again as I moved one of my pawns to capture one of his.

I sat there, tapping my shoulder in a steady rhythm while watching Ozpin take his time to make his move.

"You know, you never really confirmed whether my suspicions about your semblance were correct or not." He casually pointed out, deciding to use his own knight to take the pawn I just moved.

Time froze. I surveyed the chessboard in front of me before choosing to get my rook on the offensive, blocking the path of his bishop with my knight defending its position.

"You mean about how you thought my semblance could slow down time?" I asked when time resumed again. "Sorry to disappoint you, but you're wrong. My semblance isn't about slowing down time."

 _It actually stops time in general,_ I kept to myself.

"I see…" Ozpin paused for a moment, before repositioning his bishop to another location. "But it is still related to manipulating time?"

Nosey bastard.

With his bishop out of the way, I moved my other knight in it's place.

"Check." That should be enough to dodge his question.

I noticed Miss Goodwitch glancing up from her scroll pad in interest for a short moment, before resuming whatever it was that she was doing.

Ozpin didn't seem to react though. Instead, he just calmly took his turn.

I was expecting him to use his bishop to take away my knight piece. He actually chose to move his king away instead.

Crap. That was another strategy down the toilet.

Time froze.

I improvised a new strategy that would revolve around my rook pieces cornering his queen. Hopefully he wouldn't realize what I'm doing until it was too late.

Time resumed.

I moved my knight away from my rook and near his queen in order to try to lure him into taking it.

"Well, whatever your semblance is, why do you feel like you should hide it from other people?" Ozpin tapped his boot a few times, before moving one of his pawns ahead.

"Isn't that my reason to know, and for you to respect other people's privacy?" I moved my knight to take one of his.

Miss Goodwitch decided to speak up at my response. "That wasn't exactly a polite tone, Mr. Rose."

"I'm not exactly in the best of moods. Your headmaster just challenged me to a game of chess in order to decide whether or not I join his school early. Or have you forgotten that detail?" I reminded her.

She stayed silent after that and went back to her scroll pad.

Ozpin kept silent as well, and decided to move his rook and take a bishop that I had forgotten I left in position from my previous strategies.

Damn it.

Maybe I should indulge him. If he concentrated more on making conversation with me instead of focusing on the game, I might be able to get out of this mess home-free.

"Why do you care so much, anyway?" I asked him, moving my knight away from his queen to see if he'd follow.

"Hm?" He moved his queen in the opposite direction that I wanted him to go.

Time froze.

I adapted a new strategy to replace the old one.

Time resumed.

"Let's say that, hypothetically, my semblance _can_ somehow manipulate time. What exactly would you do, knowing I had a semblance like that?" I moved my rook to chase after his bishop.

"Hm…perhaps, for starters, it would help me try to understand your position better. From your rant earlier, I just had this general feeling that you dislike this 'crutch' of yours." He set up his own rook to protect his bishop's position.

"Another one of your famous guesses?" I ignored his rook and took his bishop anyway.

"Quite so." He chuckled, before using his rook to take one of my other knight pieces instead.

Time froze.

New strategy.

Time resumed.

I moved my bishop to back his king into a corner.

"Everyone always focuses on Ross, the prodigal child. Don't they?" He pushed his pawn up to block me.

"Excuse me?" I used my other knight to get into a position where I could take his pawn.

"But you never thought you were a prodigy. You were just a normal child, with absolutely no skills in anything combat-related before you started Signal. But then, one day, you discovered your semblance." He elaborated, before moving his queen ahead and taking one of my other pawns.

"..." I placed my rook to block off any possible attacks from his queen.

"At first, it must have felt exciting. Having a power that could control something so intangible, a power that could only be imagined in the realm of fantasy and science fiction." He took away my knight using his bishop, screwing over my game plan. "But as you keep using it, you notice how everything around you takes such little effort to finish."

I hesitantly kept going along with my original strategy, tired of making new ones that never seemed like they had a chance of working. I moved my bishop up to the pawn, but not close enough for it to take me in the next turn.

"Everything you ever had to do was so ridiculously easy. But then you compared yourself to your friends and the other students. You noticed how hard they struggled to keep up with the pace that you laid out. They struggled so hard to meet your level, but they could never reach it." He repositioned his queen next to an opening that I didn't notice. He had me in check. "Yet despite them working so hard, you were the only one to ever get all the praise and attention. That's when you realized how unfair your semblance was. You might as well have been cheating."

I clenched my grip on the table, and moved my king away from his queen.

"Because of how well you were doing, your teachers decided to leave you out on the hard training sessions, figuring that you didn't need it. As you watched from the sidelines, you were able to watch everyone you know slowly improving themselves, each passing day. You've seen them grow. You've seen them learn. You've seen their dedication and passion to become the people that they always dreamed of being."

He positioned his bishop around a corner, effectively trapping my rook in place. I couldn't move it now, without exposing my king.

"Yet despite them growing as people, all of the attention was still on you."

I noticed my breathing hitched for a moment, before I calmed myself down. I set my queen up to try to take out his bishop, which was holding my rook in place.

"Because of your teachers effectively blocking off your training, you were never able to be amongst your friends and improve yourself with them. You weren't getting stronger like they were. You felt that you were still as weak and unskilled as the day you joined Signal. Yet you were still considered to be the best amongst them." He moved his rook to help defend the position of the first bishop. "And you despised it."

"Is this all hypothetical, or are you seriously trying to predict how my life is like?" I rhetorically asked, feeling a bit annoyed with how he was just describing my life as if he knows it.

"Each time a compliment about your skills as a future huntsman is handed your way, you resent it. Because, in your head, they aren't referring to your actual skills, the skills that you've never trained and thus never had. To you, they were actually referring to your semblance." He continued on, ignoring my snark.

Each word made me feel more uncomfortable at how close to the mark he was. I really didn't like it when someone used psychiatry bullshit on me.

I tried to ignore him as I went ahead and moved my knight around to get near his king.

"That's why you despised it so much. You hated how it was the only thing that ever defined you. You hated how everyone rewarded you for simply having your semblance, whether they knew it or not." He sent his queen up ahead. "Thus, why you feel you don't deserve any more opportunities. Check."

I was half-tempted to just rage quit now and throw this freaking board at his face. But I was able to stop myself and cool down before that happened.

"What exactly is your point here? If you claim to understand everything about me and my semblance, and the reason why I won't accept your offer, why do you keep insisting on getting me to join your school?" I pulled my king away from his queen.

"You don't have to limit yourself by denying every opportunity that goes your way simply because you see your semblance as a means of cheating. You're so focused on viewing it as a curse, that it's blinded you to its potential."

"Oh really? Enlighten me on what sort of potential it has then. The potential to blow the competition away in tournaments? The potential to acquire fame and wealth in the shortest amount of time possible? The potential to promote schools, being advertised as their most powerful student?" I not-so-subtly accused.

"What about the potential to help others, for starters?" He calmly suggested.

I shut myself up.

"The potential to help eradicate the Grimm. The potential to stop criminals from doing as they please. The potential to keep the peace. The potential to end wars."

He took out my rook. My king was put in a bad position.

"The potential... to save lives." He finished.

…

Time froze.

I took my time to survey the pieces and tried to form a new strategy.

But… It would be pointless.

In the next few moves, no matter what I do, he will have me in checkmate.

In the next few moves, he'll win.

For the first time in a long while, I didn't know what to do.

I didn't know how to respond.

This feeling of irresolution almost felt alien to me.

I counted the seconds that never passed by.

Ten minutes.

Nothing.

I did it again.

Twenty.

Still nothing.

Thirty.

An hour.

Six hours.

Twelve hours.

A day.

I stayed frozen like that for a while, trying to come up with a new strategy. I thought out as many scenarios in my head as I could, hoping to find one that could somehow lead me to win. What happened if I move this piece over here? What are the chances that he'll move his piece to that spot? If he does move at that spot, then how should I move to turn that to my advantage? Should I risk it with this strategy? Is there a strategy that doesn't revolve around one of his pieces to follow according to plan? Is there a strategy that won't fall apart the moment he takes away one of my pieces?

I lost count on how long I stayed like this. It must have been a dangerously long amount of time. Even though I don't know of any side effects of staying in Limbo for a long period of time, I still usually don't stay in here for longer than a few days. I'm not curious enough to try to find out about it yet either.

Despite all that, I still hadn't found a way to reverse the conditions of the game in my favor. Every single plan was either incompetent, relied too much on luck, or only delayed the inevitable.

So, for the first time in a long while, I restarted time without a clear objective in mind. Without a clear motive in mind.

Without a plan.

I could only helplessly move my king away.

"I understand how you feel, Ross. I can understand the feeling of everyone paying attention to you, and not actually noticing you. But to limit yourself by denying any advantage and opportunity that comes your way, just because you think you didn't deserve them…it won't help you become the huntsman that you dream of being." He explained.

"But what the hell can I do?" The only reason I'd gotten to where I was now came from people mistaking my semblance as skill. Even if he really thinks it has the potential to be used for good, who's to say I'm actually good enough to make my semblance live up to it? I'll probably manage to screw up trying to help. I've already proven that tonight when that gang leader escaped.

"Despite everything I've said, you must be thinking that you're still not good enough to make your semblance live up to it's potential."

I glowered at him. I do not like this psychiatry bullshit.

"Alright then, how about this. Have you ever heard of the saying, 'With great power, comes great responsibility'?"

I silently nodded. It was a popular phrase that'd been repeated in many children's books.

"It's an aesop with different interpretations. One who has too much power can be corrupted by it. One who has too much control can easily lose it. What they all have in common is the message of how you need to have a sort of discipline and will in order to be able to wield such power, lest you become consumed or poisoned by it." He took my queen with his.

Numbly, I hid my king away behind some pawns.

"I've given my own interpretation for it though. 'With great responsibility, comes a great burden.'"

"A great burden?" I asked.

"You've been burdened with a power that you never asked for. The burden of your identity and natural abilities being overshadowed by your semblance. The burden of feeling like you never actually earned anything that was given to you. The burden of having to live a depressing life that you felt you couldn't tell anyone about. Such drawbacks from a power you never wanted or needed. But even so, you are still responsible for how you ultimately use it." He said as he took away one of my few remaining pieces. "Will you continue to hold it back, vainly hoping one day that it'll go away somehow, even as you continue to use it? Or will you realize the possible good you could accomplish with such a power, and work yourself to master it to be able to help others?"

"You say that as if it should be easy." I muttered, absent-mindedly moving my king further away. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Well for starters, maybe allow someone to help you?"

I glanced at him inquisitively.

"We, at Beacon Academy, strive to train and educate our students so that, by the time they grow up and graduate, they will already be at their full potential. What you lack is not the ability and skill, but rather, the experience and training." He moved his Queen ahead.

Check.

"Please, reconsider your outlook on my proposal. Don't think of it as unfair opportunity that gives you an advantage in life, like however many others that were given to you. Instead, think of it as an opportunity where you can finally have the proper training you always needed. A way you can actually earn what you were given."

I didn't want to move my King. The only move I could have made was a strategized trap.

Even though the game wasn't over yet, I had lost.

But… would it really be that bad?

Maybe Ozpin was right. Maybe since Beacon was my only shot at a way to improve my skills fairly, I should take the chance and be done with it.

I moved my king ahead, acknowledging my fate.

But before I let go of my piece, I began to have second thoughts…

Why should I seize my chance early? Would it really matter if I had to wait two more years before finally attending Beacon?

I felt torn apart. I wanted to go about this in a way that would make it fair, but if Ozpin was telling the truth, then I could…

People wouldn't reward me for simply using my semblance anymore. I'd finally be able to earn everything with hard work, just like everyone else.

…

I guess it didn't really matter anymore, did it? I was still going to lose and join Beacon either way. There was no point in fighting back anymore.

I removed my hand from my king.

So I closed my eyes and waited for him to make his final move. Keeping a steady rhythm as I tapped my shoulders, I waited.

I waited.

And waited.

And… waited.

And waited?

…

And waited.

I opened my eyes and looked at Ozpin, still not making a move. Curiously glancing at the clock, I checked if time still moved normally. Why was Ozpin taking so long to pull his checkmate?

I heard a clack.

I looked back at the chessboard, seeing Ozpin knock his own king piece down.

What? Did he forfeit the game? Didn't he know that he was one more move away from trapping my king?

"What are you doing?" I expressed my confusion.

"Mm, I changed my mind. I don't want to play a game to decide whether or not you'll join Beacon. I've decided that it'd rather be best if you chose for yourself." He explained, giving a cheeky smirk.

"Wait… I don't understand. I was going to lose the game. Why did you suddenly decide to forfeit when you were so close to winning? What was the point of this chess game if I was still going to be given a choice anyway?"

"Well, there are a multitude of reasons." He began to list off, "You see, I rather dislike it when people make rash and quick judgements on certain matters without giving much thought on what it'll effect in the long run. I couldn't simply accept your denial if you were going to disregard my offer as something that won't help you in life. So I took this chess game as an opportunity to speak with you and explain myself, for you'd surely ignore me in any other circumstance. I wanted you to give proper thought about what you want to do, before you made any decisions. I wanted you to see my offer as more than just another reward that you didn't earn. I just wanted to make you think. I feel like I've accomplished that." Ozpin pushed his glasses up. "Also, I wanted to see how you fared in a game of chess. You've performed rather admirably. I had a tough time figuring out your traps and strategies. It was just as fun as I imagined it would be."

So this was all just to get me to give more consideration into Ozpin's offer to join Beacon early. I never really was in any situation where circumstances would have forced me to go.

"I can see that you've already made up your mind during our game. Have you decided to change your answer, now that you've heard my explanation and have given careful thought about it?" Ozpin asked.

I kept myself silent.

I really didn't know how to properly react to this revelation.

Did I change my mind about this? Did he actually convince me to want to join Beacon?

If all the things that he promised were true, then the prospect doesn't seem that unappealing anymore.

Should I be mad that he basically set this chess game up as a way to put me in a distressed state, thus using that to his advantage as he goes into detail about my own psychological problems and why it was the reason I could never overcome them by myself, which gave him the chance to advertise his offer to join Beacon as a solution, thus manipulating me with silver linings to find myself slowly finding the idea of losing to be a more preferred outcome?

…

Yes.

I calmly stood up from my seat, and held my fingers up. "I have only two responses to you."

I breathed in.

"You are just the most despicable, deceptive, manipulative, raging asshole I have ever met in my entire life! After today, I swear that I'm going to get a restraining order on you so that I never have to see your goddamn face within fifty feet of me ever again!"

I breathed out.

Ozpin took a casual sip of his drink, "And your second response?"

"..."

* * *

I looked up at the giant transportation airship as they prepared for boarding.

I sighed.

Can't believe I actually accepted. I felt like absolute shit for doing this.

I felt an arm comforting my shoulder.

"What's the matter kiddo? Nervous?" Dad asked, giving me a worried glance.

"No, just disappointed." I answered honestly.

"Disappointed? What's there to be disappointed about? My talented young boy was just personally accepted into Beacon two years early, by the Headmaster of the academy himself! You should be proud right now! You've earned this!" He praised me.

"No. No, I really didn't."

"Heh. Talented and modest, just like your mother." He waved away dismissively.

I sighed again.

I stopped tapping my shoulder.

Thus, time froze.

The loud bustling crowd had become silent and still. Dad was frozen with a cocky grin on his face.

I took the time to just observe the area around me.

Many of the people in this crowd seem to be young adults. Probably new and/or returning students of Beacon. I had to be the only fifteen year old around here that's going to be a student.

It was going to be uncomfortable, being in a new area with different people to interact with. I may not have had many close friends back in Signal, but I at least had gotten to know them well enough. In Beacon, not only would I have no friends to start off with, I'd also be the odd one out due to my age difference.

I just hope I'll get along well in the new environment.

I started tapping my shoulder again, and time resumed. Looking around the crowded area, I asked, "Where's Yang? Shouldn't she be here by now?"

"Don't worry, Ross. Your uncle Qrow should be bringing her over real soon."

"Doesn't she have her own motorcycle? Why would she need Uncle Qrow to take her somewhere?"

"It's getting repaired. You know how she usually drives that thing, right?"

"Oh. Right."

Like a road dyslexic, or a bumper cars enthusiast.

I love my sister. I really do. But she couldn't drive a bike for shit, unless Vale decided to raise the speeding cap to be at least 350 mph.

"Besides, this'll be convenient for him. Qrow said that he's got a gift for you when he meets up with us." Dad explained.

"A gift? What is it?" I asked.

"Well, that'd spoil the surprise if told you now." Dad grinned cheekily.

I hummed in acknowledgement, before staring back at the airship.

To my side, I heard Dad give a sigh. For what reason, I wouldn't know.

To be honest, despite being family, my dad and I weren't that close. Not as close as I was with Yang, at least.

My parents were both Hunters, so that meant they were usually busy on missions. Of course, having two young kids in their care, that obviously meant they didn't have much time to spend with us.

I didn't blame them for it. It's not like I'd had a terrible childhood simply because I missed a bedtime story or two. In a way, them going out to do their jobs to help protect the peace was also so that they could protect us too.

But I guess it was because of their jobs that they weren't around long enough for them to properly developed a stronger bond with me when I was younger.

Except maybe Mom, until she… died. She somehow seemed to find more time for us than Dad did.

Her dying did not help my already distanced relationship with Dad.

Being alone at home meant I usually spent my time with Yang. Despite being half-siblings, we got along well. She seemed to care for me like a real brother. She was the only one who was with me when I was getting over the depression.

That's not exactly saying much, considering I moved on particularly fast for a young age.

Having a semblance to stop time can make you think about things.

I was brought out of my musings when I heard my dad ask me, "Whatcha thinking about?"

"Hm?" I glanced at him.

"Sorry, you were just… you had a faraway look on your face. I couldn't help but be curious." He awkwardly scratched his neck.

"Nothing too significant." I replied, looking away. "The past, I guess."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence in the air.

One that didn't last very long, when Dad asked me, "I always wanted to ask, but why do you always poke yourself like that? Where did you get that habit from?"

"Dunno. I just find that it helps my concentration." I lied.

"Oh. What are you concentrating about?"

"Right now? Being patient for Yang to show up."

My answers apparently didn't satisfy him. "Hey, Ross… If you ever have any problems, or you ever wanted to get something off your chest, you can always talk to me about it. I mean, I am your old man after all." Then he nervously chuckled, "What kind of father would I be, if I wasn't there for my son, you know?"

"Right." I replied.

He sighed again, before the awkward silence returned.

This didn't last very long either, when we heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Heeey!"

Turning around, I saw Yang running towards us with the hugest grin on her face as she was waving. From behind her, Uncle Qrow was calmly walking with hands in his pockets, looking at least half-sober.

Dad held his arms wide open, "Ey! There's my baby girl!"

Yang tackle-hugged Dad, causing them both to fall over as they laughed all the while.

"Look at you Yang. All grown up and ready to leave home behind. Like a bird finally leaving its nest."

"I'm not gonna leave forever, dad. Obviously, I'll come back to visit!" She paused, before adding, "Occasionally."

"Haha! Occasionally? What, you think you'll be too cool to stick around with your pop after graduating?"

As their banter went on, Uncle Qrow caught up with her. Walking next to me, he greeted, "Heya kiddo."

"Hello Uncle." I nodded back.

"So, congrats on graduating to Beacon. 'Bout time something like this happened, if you ask me. You're way too good to be stuck in Signal for another few years. I'm proud of ya." He praised, ruffling my hair.

I didn't reply to that.

"Woah, simmer down there chatterbox." He teased. "Anyways, sorry I can't stick around for long, but I'm gonna have to make this quick." He grabbed something on his back and held it up for me to see. "I got you something you might find useful. Go ahead, take it."

Handing it over to me, I held some sort of grey metal case. Fairly light-weight, small enough to be attached to my belt, although for what it was suppose to keep inside, I haven't figured out yet.

After closer examination, I noticed a small switch on the side of the casing. Pressing the switch, the case started to loosen and expand, turning into a giant scythe in my hands.

"Woah." My eyes widened, startled from the sight.

"Surprise." He smirked. "It's your own personal weapon. A compactable scythe fitted with a professionally crafted blade made from S7 steel. I know, it might seem a bit bare-bones, compared to my own scythe. It doesn't exactly have a second form, or a gun installed, but that's because I wanted it to be entirely customizable so that you can add whatever you want. What you do with it and how you build it, is all gonna be up to you."

"Uncle Qrow, this is… I don't know what to say." It felt good to swing around. It was so big, yet amazingly light to hold. I was speechless of the quality. This was amazing. "Thank you, Uncle! I'll be sure to put this to good use!"

"Don't mention it, kiddo." He waved away.

The pole height was about seven feet long, with the width for the scythe blade itself reaching to between two-three feet. The blade looked sharp enough to get through bone if I swung fast enough. The entire color scheme was an appealing grey and black. It was sleek, comfortable to hold and handle.

But I was pretty sure I could make this even better, if given time. Maybe install a knife to the bottom end of the pole, or I could outfit the scythe to have two blades, thus doubling the slicing power. The pole's circumference was wide enough to load rifle bullets if I chose to implement firearm functions.

Yeah…

Yeah, I could work with this.

"Hey hey hey! Look who's finally got his own weapon!" Yang sauntered up next to me. "How do you like it, Ross?"

"It's great. Out of all the weapons I could have chosen, I don't think I could have gotten a better one than this." I answered, genuinely impressed.

"Heh, I knew you'd like it. I was the one who suggested for Uncle Qrow to make it for you!"

"Oh yeah? Any reason why you thought I'd fit well with a scythe? I mean, it's not like I ever properly used one in a fight before."

"Well, I know you're a complete nerd when it comes to weapons, so I thought to myself, 'Hey, what's the weirdest but absolutely coolest weapon that'll catch everyone's eye?' Then I remembered Uncle Qrow's sword that could turn into a scythe and was also part shotgun, and I thought, 'Yeah, this is definitely going to be a thing.'"

"So you picked a scythe because you thought I'd look cool while using it?"

"Pretty much."

"Can't argue with that logic." I chuckled.

"Plus, I figured you'd know how to use it anyway. I mean, you're really good with whatever you have in your hands, even if you never used it before. I'm sure a little prodigy like you will get by!"

There's that word again.

That damn word.

 _Prodigy_.

When she mentioned that, my mood slightly soured. I tried my best not to reveal that in my face though.

"Right." I simply replied.

"Oh this is going to be so awesome! I can't believe my little brother is coming to Beacon with me!" Yang gushed as she tried to murder me with a hug.

 _"Yang. Yang, I need- I need air. Yang? I need oxygen to live, Yang. Yang!"_

Just then, the speakers blared to life. Yang weakened her grip as we looked up to the speakers and listened.

" **Attention all Beacon Initiates. Ships begin boarding in** _ **five**_ **minutes. I repeat, ships flying to Beacon will begin boarding in** _ **five**_ **minutes. Thank you."**

Five more minutes left until the beginning of my new life in Beacon. Despite being disappointed in myself for choosing to go, I do admit that I felt my heart beating, knowing I'd be a student at Beacon for the next four years.

Uncle Qrow checked his Scroll, "Tch, I think I've stuck around for long enough. Cya later, kids."

As he walked away, Dad spoke up, "Wait, where are you going? Aren't you going to see them off?"

"Sorry Tai, got an important mission to get to and I'm already late as it is!" Uncle Qrow waved at us, "Good luck to you guys, though! I know you'll both blow the other students away!"

And with that, he was gone.

Even Uncle Qrow has to cut time with family to finish missions too. Such is the life of a Hunter. Would I be forced to spend less time with the people I knew and love just to fulfill my duty as a Huntsman too, when I grew up?

Would it matter, considering my semblance?

Yang brought me out of my musings when she asked me, "So? Did you give it a name yet?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "A name? For what?"

"Your new weapon, obviously! Aren't you going to give it a cool sounding name?"

That brought up an interesting point. What name should I give this scythe?

Every customized or personal weapon had been given a name at some point in time. Some were named the moment of their birth. Others were named the moment they become unique and different from others of their kind. Nameless weapons that used to belong to famous or historical figures were given titles and nicknames based on what they were used for, or where they were used in.

Yang had her gauntlets, Ember Celica. Uncle Qrow had his sword, Black Feather.

Now I had my own weapon, a scythe.

What name to give it though?

Calling it "Scythe" would just be boring and lazy. I had a better imagination than that. Should it be named for its functions or color?

It was grey. It could compact itself into a transportable box. It was big in appearance, yet lightweight to hold. It had potential to be modified into anything I would want it to be.

Whatever I wanted it to be.

I wanted it to represent me for being my weapon. A tool to help protect me whenever I needed it.

I am Ross, and this is my weapon…?

I am Ross, and this is my scythe…?

I am Ross Rose, and this is my tool…?

I am Ross Rose…

Ross Rose.

Rose.

I am a Rose.

For every rose, it has its thorns.

I am a Rose, and I have my thorns.

I am a Rose, and this is my… thorn.

Thorn?

Thorns of a rose?

I am Ross Rose. This is my Thorn.

Rose's thorn.

Rosethorn.

Yeah.

"Rosethorn." I nodded to myself, looking over my weapon one more time. "I think I'll call her Rosethorn."

Yang smiled, "Ooh, Rosethorn? That's creative. I think it fits you pretty well."

"Definitely, champ. I'm sure your mom would have been happy to know you named your weapon after your last name." Dad praised.

Hm.

She probably would.

If she was alive, would she had been proud to know that I wanted to grow up and be like her? A Hunter?

Would she be surprised to know that I still kept her last name?

Would she still understand me, even as I become a vastly different person than I was years ago?

I shook my head, stopping my train of thought.

In the end, it didn't really matter. She was still dead. I'd already moved on.

"Hey, you alright lil' bro?" Yang asked, probably noticing my annoyed expression.

I switched back to my neutral attitude, and replied, "Yeah, just feeling a bit tired I guess."

" **Attention all Beacon Initiates. Ships are now available to board. I repeat, all ships flying to Beacon are now available to board. Thank you, and we wish you good luck."**

"That's our cue!" Yang gasped excitedly. "Come on Ross, energize yourself and hurry up! Beacon's not gonna wait on us forever!"

Psh, I could make it so that it does.

You know, because of the time semblance?

As Yang ran ahead, waving goodbye at Dad, he walked up to me and pat me on the back. "You better go after her and make sure your sister doesn't do anything reckless. Good luck out there, Ross."

"Thanks Dad. Tell some of my friends in Signal that I'll write them a letter sometimes." I nodded farewell, before following Yang to the transport ship.

The view of the ship grew as I stepped close. The sight was intimidating. Although, knowing that it'll take me to an unfamiliar world probably helped add in the intimidation factor.

I stopped time, and just stared.

I stared at the fine metal around it.

I stared at the quadruple wings that made it flew.

I stared at the long door ramp in front of me.

I stared at the people inside of it, and out.

I just stared to my heart's content, and counted the seconds that never passed by.

Ten minutes.

A blonde boy in a hoodie, looking worried and scared at the idea of getting on that ship.

An animated girl in pink, smiling widely at a calm and indifferent boy of Eastern descent.

A girl with a bow on her head, reading a book as she walked, ignoring everything in the world around her.

My sister, waving at me to come aboard quickly, knowing that she was going to have an experience of a lifetime.

Me. Nobody special.

Ready or not, here I go.

I resumed time again, and took the first step.

* * *

 **GEDDIT?! BECAUSE SYMBOLISM! THE CHESS GAME WAS TOTALLY A METAPHOR ABOUT THE INNER TURMOIL OF ROSS'S FEELING, AND NOT AT ALL AN ACTUAL CHESS GAME! DID YOU GUESS THAT?! NO? WELL FUCK ME THEN.**

 **Sorry for the long wait. Hope this chapter was worth it. Now to finally finish my other chapters for A Boy's Take, and A Gamer's Take.**

 **Edited by Kildeez and a guy named Sean.**

 **Suggestions made by Mr Beaver Buttington.**


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